


You're overly affectionate and clingy and land all your jumps and I despise you, but there's something sunny in your smile

by Kiyuomi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 4+1, Cuddling, Fluff, Food, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Head pats, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, aged down, but they get older until canon ages, ignoring episode 10, like diabities level of fluff, movies - Freeform, netflix, pretty sure there's more food than netflix, ridiculous level of graphic food detail, rivals to friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyuomi/pseuds/Kiyuomi
Summary: 4 + 1 Times JJ invited Seung-Gil to movies and one time Seung-Gil invited JJFor the YoI kink meme prompt:"Any Ship + Netflix; Cuddles"





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the YoI kink meme prompt:  
> "Any Ship + Netflix & Cuddles"

1.

                “Korean representative Seung-Gil finishes in third place! What a fantastic display of skills and skating today, right folks? Speaking of, let’s review the amazing performance by first time performer, Jean Jac…”

                Seung-Gil turns off the television. The numb feeling from getting kicked from silver to bronze hadn’t disappeared. There were numerous newcomers in this tournament, also guaranteeing him a spot on the podium. But instead one of them, an annoying brat, had taken gold. Frustration clawed at his skin, demanding some reaction to such a miserable turnout.

                A knock on the door. Two.

                Seung-Gil really, honestly does not want to talk to his coach right now. She may have believed even more firmly than he that he would collect a medal in this tournament. And he had, though barely.

                Another knock. And a shout that was most definitely not female.

                “Soong! Soong!” That was not his coach. But it was 8pm on the night after the competition, everyone he knew was partying and the staff here couldn’t have known his name. Who was it?

                “Soong-Gee!”

                And why couldn’t they pronounce his name?

                Grumbling, Seung-Gil slid off his bed, pulling on his slippers to open the door. Seriously, if even the foreign announcers could get his name right, then some random should be able to.

                “Soong-oh! There you are!” Seung-Gil stared at the boy in front of him. Messy black hair, a faint tan, practically sparkling blue eyes. A grin that belonged on a poster.

                “Jean.” The boy beamed at Seung-Gil. Obviously, he had decided to come upstairs from the junior division party downstairs. Quite obviously, he had knocked on Seung-Gil’s door to spend some time with the Korean skater.

                “I want-”

                Seung-Gil shut the door in his face.

                “Wha-hey! Soong! Soooooong! Open up, heeeey!” The annoying cries of Jean permeated the door. Seung-Gil grimaced at the distinct sound of nails against the wood, no doubt scratching the fine painting.

                “What?” He grumbled, leaning against the door and clicking the lock into the knob.

                “I came to play- uh, hang out with you! Come on, I brought some movies!”

                “You brought movies to a skating competition?” Talk about adding insult to injury. Seung-Gil was irritated enough at the younger competitor for not only landing all his jumps but also taking gold in his first event. If he just wanted to watch films why did he have to compete?

                “No silly, I got them at the Blockbusters nearby. Come on, don’t you want to watch?” Jean’s voice was crystal clear against the door. It sounded just as annoying as before.

                “No, I don’t.”

                “But why? Come on; throw me a bone, just one movie?” Annoying, annoying. Seung-Gil sighed, kneading his forehead as Jean complained. He didn’t want to deal with this, not now and not ever.

                “I’m tired, I’m going to bed.” He said instead.

                “Oh,” disappointment radiated through the door. Had Seung-Gil been a more sympathetic person, he would probably have opened the door to welcome the younger skater. But he was tired; he had flubbed three jumps today and somehow despite being in a nearly all-newcomer tournament he only barely took bronze.  “Well okay, good night then.”

                Seung-Gil waited for the sound of padding feet to disappear before sighing to himself. He did feel a bit guilty for denying the other skater, especially as he probably skipped out on some social celebration downstairs to invite him, but really, he was tired. He deserved a break from all the mass media going on.

                Besides, he wasn’t a movie person.

 

2.

                “I can’t believe you watch k-dramas.”

                “Why in the world are you on my bed.”

                Seung-Gil froze in the entrance to his supposedly single room, luggage in tow and bag in arm. Sitting in the middle of the single queen’s bed in the center of the room was one Jean-Jacques Leroy, or as his new album called him, “JJ”, clad in pajamas. Even worse, he could smell food on the table besides the bed, and he could very clearly see DVDs piled near JJ’s knees.

                “I came over to have some fun. We’re not competing for three days, Soong. Watch some decent TV with me,” JJ said, grinning as he gestured to the television. As a familiar theme song opened the next show, Seung-Gil stared at JJ. There was absolutely no way.

                “Are you watching Digimon?” he deadpanned, resignedly moving inward and shutting the door behind him. “How did you get in here?” He had just collected his key from the front desk and this is a single room.

                “Hey, Digimon is great. And all the rooms in this floor open with the same key!” JJ happily replied. Great, so they had put all the junior division skaters in a hotel with failed security. Of course this would happen. “I saw that you were rooming next door so of course I came by, Soong-Gee.”

                “First of all, it’s Seung-Gil, not Soong, not Soong-Gee, Seung-Gil. And secondly,” Seung-Gil’s eyes raked over the mess of his bed. JJ was cradling a pillow quite comfortably, and he had evidently knocked the other decorative ones to the floor. The blankets were disarray, twisted this way and that from whatever JJ was doing on his bed. And the DVDs weren’t only taking up his bed space, but also picked in bad taste and, “Is that ‘The Incredibles’?” He hadn’t bothered to watch the film on the big screen but supposedly it was a hit.

                Hearing the sudden curiosity in the Korean skater’s voice, JJ’s grin turned dangerous. “Yep, it is. Want to watch it?” Seung-Gil gave him a doubtful expression, inclined to say “no” if only by habit. But, “I brought free food and we aren’t allowed out to practice anyway, just one film won’t take that long.” Hook, line.

                “One movie.”

                Sinker. JJ nodded, moving to make space for the other to join him; which really, should be the other way around considering this was Seung-Gil’s room. “What did you bring?” He said instead, gesturing to the bag of food.

                “It’s a s-e-c-r-e-t!” JJ sung in response, picking up the chosen DVD and rushing to change the television to the program. Unimpressed, Seung-Gil shuffled over the disheveled blankets to the bag, untying it and finding two brown paper bags inside. He picked up the stronger smelling one, easily tearing it past the staples to find… what is this?

                “Okay, so we just press play and-hey!” JJ whined, running over to snatch the awful mess from Seung-Gil’s hands. His hands felt slick with oil that had seeped through the paper carton holding what looked like an awful mix of browns and smelled too strongly of cheese. “Hands off until the movie!”

                “What is that mess?” Seung-Gil asked, wrinkling his nose. He turned to the rest of the contents in the bag, containing bags of chips, a soda and… three bottles of chocolate milk?

                “That milk is for me!” JJ pouted, grabbing the bag away. “And shut up, it’s good, you just haven’t had real food yet. It’s called poutine, it’s delicious and amazing and you haven’t lived until you’ve eaten it, okay. And I’m turning on The Incredibles, so just be quiet and eat your food.”

                “What am I supposed to eat if that’s all yours?” Seung-Gil deadpanned, turning his attention to the starting sequence of the television. JJ pointed at the other bag stubbornly, before digging into his own and tossing the soda can at Seung-Gil.

                The other brown bag was revealed to contain much more mundane contents- three burgers, normal fries, two packets of onion rings and an orange. It was far too much food for an average individual, but Seung-Gil knew from experience that two athletes could demolish a buffet.

                They only get five minutes into the movie before JJ decides to spoil the ending the moment the main villain goes onscreen. Which of course means Seung-Gil needs to angrily sock him in the arm because what the heck, who does that?

                “Your face looked bored!” JJ had said as his excuse, while stuffing his face with that brown guck. “I wanted to see if you were paying attention.”

                “I was born with this face,” Seung-Gil hissed in reply, considering kicking out the annoyance. Yes, JJ had brought over food and movies. But that didn’t change the fact that the younger skater was an absolute annoyance. “And I’m always paying attention.”

                “You would look better smiling,” JJ insists, huffing as he licks cheese off his fingers. He is disgusting and horrible and Seung-Gil regrets ever letting him stay in his room, much less his bed. “And you totally don’t, I bet you don’t even realize that the little brother has-”

                “Enough! No spoilers, no talking, nothing! We are going to watch this movie in silence and as soon as it’s finished I am going to kick you, your horribly cheesy food and the rest of your bad taste out!” Seung-Gil yells, jabbing his finger angrily at the door. JJ stared upwards at him, heaving chest and anger radiating outward. In that moment, his frustration was crystal clear. In moments, JJ was going to apologize, wrap up his stuff and leave, just like everyone else.

                “Wow, I’ve never heard you say so much before. When did your voice get so deep?”

                “… What?” Seung-Gil froze, staring at the blank look on JJ’s face. The younger skater suddenly gave a toothy grin, swinging both hands up in victory signs.

                “I hear you, and I’m not leaving! You promised me one movie, so we’re getting through one movie. And,” he suddenly rose to his knees; head still under Seung-Gil’s but noticeably taller than he was last year, and pressed a mushy oily fry to his lips, “you haven’t even tried poutine yet.”

                “What.” Seung-Gil repeated. The fry slid into his mouth, cold and cheesy, and tasted delicious. “What.” Why was he still here? Shouldn’t he have been hurt like last year, and simply left? There was absolutely no reason that Seung-Gil could imagine for Jean to stay with him after he suddenly blew up like that. “What.”

                “That’s Violet’s crush.” JJ said instead. “And you sound like a broken record.”

                Seung-Gil socked him in the other arm.

                And kicked him out the moment the movie ended.

3.

                The Cup of Canada is a crushing defeat. Seung-Gil competes in his first senior division competition and comes in dead-last, blankly staring at the ice as familiar name after familiar name gets called. Of course he knows these skaters; of course he knows their skills and talents. Of course he knows that only Victor would win gold if he was competing.

                It still hurts.

                He leaves the competition early, not bothering with any social events. His coach stares disapprovingly after his back, but he could honestly care less with the title “6th place” ringing over and over in his head. His legs feel numb. He’s tired.

                He flubbed his jumps.

                He’s exhausted. And honestly, right now he doesn’t really care about people. Not about the media, not about his coach, not about his competitors, and right now he just wants—

                “Seung.”

                He flinches at the voice. It’s hard not to when it’s just another guy who took gold, just another skater who is wildly more successful than he, just another person who somehow is just doing better.

                “Seung.” He hates how his voice sounds so small on command. He hates how he doesn’t have to look to see those haunting blue eyes, the sharpness of those high cheekbones, the airy sweep of hair. A voice that commands, and is worth millions, calls for him. “Seung.”

                “What is it?” There’s bitterness in his voice. For the moment, it’s unintentional, seeping in through the cracks of his skin. His senior debut. Sixth place.

                “Are you oka…free to watch a movie today?” Seung-Gil wasn’t sure if the concern was helpful or demeaning. He wasn’t blind to JJ’s success in almost all forms he dabbled in. Compared to him, Seung-Gil just didn’t feel like he was on the same level. And he didn’t have time to watch a movie.

                “I really can’t-hm?” Seung-Gil jerked at the sudden touch against his sides. JJ slid in close, wrapping his arms around Seung-Gil’s middle and resting his head against the back of his neck. Nearly three years after they met and JJ’s growth spurt was only now catching up, bringing him to Seung-Gil’s nose. His arms were more muscular, wide against Seung-Gil’s stomach; but his hips remained narrow, legs brushing as he leaned forward. The milk must have helped.

                “Can’t say no, the king’s already caught you,” JJ grinned against Seung-Gil, pressing his cheek against Seung-Gil’s shoulder. “Come on, I have a Netflix account now, we can watch all your dumb K-dramas.”

                Seung-Gil briefly considers walking away from the other skater. He’s leaving in two days and he’s going to spend those days practicing, there’s no need to let JJ create a mess of his room again. Likewise, JJ should probably be off singing or designing or whatever new hobby that he’s taken up in his free time alongside skating. The media will probably arrive to the hotel in ten and take horribly demeaning pictures of them hugging, and spread it with the most irritable title pages. Seung-Gil takes in a breath, straightens his shoulder and puts his hands on JJ’s arms.

                “Dramas are pretty bad,” he concedes. He slides his hands over the taut skin over growing muscles, staring at the barely visible stretch marks that come with sudden puberty. He feels JJ shiver against his back, breath suddenly tight. “But we’re not doing this in my room, you’re a mess.”

                “Barging into the king’s throne room? How brave,” JJ laughs, finally letting go and ducking to Seung-Gil’s side. His hair is longer now, just past the edges of his hair and curling upwards cutely. “Well come on then, your pretty darn bad shows are waiting.”

                “How rude,” Seung-Gil snarks, but he feels lighter now. JJ squirms impatiently as they wait for the elevator, already 16 years old but still obnoxious. Still sparkling like their very first competition. “Just wait, it’ll be here soon.”

                “The king doesn’t have time for soon!” JJ proclaims. Speaking of, Seung-Gil has been hearing a lot about “king” in the past few minutes. He’s not sure if it’s some social media program that JJ took part in or the theme of his new fashion line or the like, but he’s also not sure if JJ just waking up one day and declaring himself ruler is beneath the boy. On cue, the elevator opens and the two whisk their way up.

                “Your room is on the twenty third floor?” That’s odd. Seung-Gil was certain that this floor was reserved entirely for competing medalists, main media sponsors and announcers. How had he not seen JJ all weekend?

                “No, but your room is.”

                “… I thought we were going to yours,” Seung-Gil deadpanned. Regardless, he pulled out his keys and pushed inward the door, gesturing JJ to enter.

                “Why would I have a room here? I’m not competing, my parents aren’t coaching this event, and neither are my siblings. Silly Seung-Gil.” That makes a surprising amount of sense coming from JJ. Seung-Gil isn’t sure whether he’s annoyed or pleased at that.

                “Okay.” He tosses JJ the remote, letting the other fiddle with the television to pull up whatever it is he wants to watch. “Then why did you come?” It’s hot in the room, much warmer than the rink and in the Canadian snow, and Seung-Gil sighs as he pulls off his scarf and mittens. His palms feel sweaty, and he resists wiping them onto his coat. Silent curses come out as he unbuttons both rows of his warm trench.

                “For you, dummy.”

                Seung-Gil’s fingers freeze mid-pull, plastic button ajar. JJ isn’t looking at him but at the television, scowling as he picks through channels. Had he heard that right? He mustn’t have. He had seen the fans at the stadium. Every competitor has a cheering section, of course, but there was only one man there deserving of such dedication. And that man wasn’t

                “Seung-Gil? Having some trouble there?” JJ snickered at the Korean skater. He had finally found how to access Netflix through the hotel TV, as troublesome as it was. “Come on, if you can land a triple toe loop I know you can unbutton a coat. And what lovey-dovey smuck do you want to watch?”

                “No, no trouble,” Seung-Gil replies. His throat feels stuck like the button is, and as he wiggles it to loosen it from the strings it’s caught on he counts his breaths, feeling the knot disappear as JJ continues talking. Had the other boy’s voice always been so warm? “It’s not smuck. And see if Boys over Flowers is available.”

                “Eh? Even the names sounds weird,” JJ mumbles, scrambling onto the perfectly neat bed to continue scrolling. Seung-Gil watches as he kicks the top blanket, pulls out the lining from the corner and knocks aside two decorative pillows to snatch a comfortable plain white one, bringing it to his chest in an uncomfortably familiar gesture. “B-o-y-s, o-v…” 

                “Do you want food?” JJ startles at the question, glancing over at the Korean skater. Finally undressed from his heavy winter clothing, Seung-Gil kneels on the bed in jogging pants and a long sleeve sweater. “We’re not getting the thing you got last time though.”

                “But it’s a Canadian classic!” JJ whines. Seung-Gil watches as he fakes a scowl, puffing up his cheeks and sticking his tongue out in a fit of immaturity. “It wasn’t even that good last time since we weren’t _in Canada_ and now that we’re at the origin of the best food in the world, and _me_ , you don’t want it?” Seung-Gil keeps his face precisely neutral as JJ rants, typing out the last letters and scrolling through the results. “W-e-r-s… Get me Korean then, tasteless knight.”

                “Knight?” Seung-Gil could take tasteless; he wasn’t known for eating well on media though he did have a penchant for avoiding all things leafy greens. “And I’m not sure if you want Korean. I like things spicy.”

                Seung-Gil doesn’t recognize his mistake until the sentence ends. JJ makes a sound of success, shooting his arms up in victory signs.

                “Yes! Found it! And,” determination practically glitters in his eyes, and Seung-Gil feels premature regret creep up his spine, “get me the spiciest thing on the menu.”

                The spiciest thing on the menu ends up being both absolutely terrible and delicious depending on who you ask, and not at all Korean. Much to Seung-Gil’s horror, Canada has a relatively small pool of decent Korean restaurants, much less ones that deliver, so he ends up calling an Asian Fusion bar that primarily carries Szechuan and sushi. He gets one order mapo tofu, one stinky tofu, beef and broccoli, five bowls of rice and as a readily-prepared apology, three fruit puddings.

                JJ insists on waiting for the food to arrive to watch the movie, meaning that they get two minutes in until he starts a coughing fit mid-bite, eyes watery and face completely flush, panting between coughs, forkfuls of rice and half a bottle of water.

                “JJ, are you really sure you can handle it?” He can’t, obviously. Still, Seung-Gil can’t just take away his food mid-bite. As if fueled by the statement, JJ furiously nods despite still coughing, wiping away perspiration and snot with the bedside tissues.

                “I-I’m, ugh, fine,” another coughing fit. At this point, there’s nothing but pity for the Canadian. “It’s okay… n-not thaaat spicy.” To prove his point, JJ picks out another piece of tofu from the dish and plops it into his mouth. He holds it in for about two seconds before hissing, reaching over and downing the rest of his bottle.

                “Right.” Seung-Gil deadpans and reaches over to take the very full takeout box from JJ’s lap, sliding the untouched beef and broccoli over. He contemplates bringing out the sweets early on too, but JJ’s already recovering from the last bite and he doesn’t want to push the other. “Well you should probably stop coughing and focus on the screen, or you’ll miss the confession.”

                “There’s a confession already?” JJ’s voice sounds scratchy and horrible, and as bad as Seung-Gil feels the look of complete astonishment at the sudden appearance of beef in broccoli in JJ’s lap makes up for everything. “Wha-how did this, hey!” JJ catches sight of the ridiculously spicy tofu on Seung-Gil’s side. “That’s mine!”

                “Mine now.” Seung-Gil picks up a piece of tofu with chopsticks and slips it in his lips, chewing slowly as JJ stares at his lack of reaction. Then another piece. Then another. No rice, no water, just mindless eating. “It’s good.” JJ gapes.

                “Wha-how-that’s so spicy! How in the world can you eat that?” There’s only so many ways to properly respond to that. One way would be that unlike JJ, Seung-Gil can actually handle basic spices. Another way is that he grew up dealing with a hotter cuisine.

                “The tasteless tongue of a tasteless knight,” he says instead, and he can’t help but bark a laugh as JJ continues staring, mouth agape and food abandoned to his side. JJ pouts at his own words being used against him because _rude_ but also because Seung-Gil’s not just smiling but laughing, mouth wide and eyes sparkling with mirth for the first time since JJ stood on the sidelines of the tournament to watch. It suits the Korean remarkably well. He really doesn’t smile enough.

                JJ’s lucky enough to see it.

                “Rudeness against your king,” JJ pouts but he can’t be mad when Seung-Gil’s teasing him. The older skater must notice, setting aside his food to lean closer, abandoning his chopsticks to comb his fingers through JJ’s hair. “I can’t believe you, poisoning me with such spices.” His knuckles graze against the scalp of JJ’s head in apology, and that feels good. It feels gentle.

                “I’m sure you’ll be glad to know I bought you extra pudding to apologize,” Seung-Gil responds. JJ’s hair is long and soft against his fingers, wispy tufts of hair that he can simply run his fingers through. He could think about this, buying snacks for someone to apologize when Seung-Gil doesn’t apologize to anyone. He could think about this, sitting beside another in bed, poking fun at each other while sharing food and watching terrible cliché love stories. He could think about this, the familiarity of JJ’s hair, the widening frame his shoulders makes but the gentle dip of his waist into his hip still reminiscent of any preteen. He could think about this, JJ’s eyes fluttering shut as the drama moves on, boy meeting girl meeting boy.

                He pinches JJ’s forehead, and the boy jolts.

                “Don’t miss the movie,” Seung-Gil teases, pointing to the inevitably-delayed confession on screen, “spoiler alert, she ends up with that one.” That gets JJ to full attention, straightening immediately and snapping his head to the screen just as the scene cuts to the background.

                “I missed it!”

                Seung-Gil laughs.

4.

 

Unknown Number: “movie nite friday nite??? <3<3<3 >3>"

You: "how did you get my number"

Unknown Number: "Secret~~~~"

                Seung-Gil frowned down at his phone as a very familiar person continues sending him messages. He had set his phone's text alert to be a single ringing bell, but now he was heavily considering silencing it. In the span it took him to write a single message he received four, at least two equipped with obnoxious emojis.

You: "What are we watching"

Unknown Number: "!!!!!!!!!! >3> ur here !!!"

Unknkown Number: "lol idk whatchu want????"

You: "What"

                Did a two year difference amount to such a gap in messaging speed and style? Seung-Gil narrowed his eyes as he counted the sheer amount of exclamation points accounting every message. How the Canadian skater managed to type like a twelve year old discovering neopets astounded him.

                "Seung-Gil! Are you ready to go on ice?" Right. The Korean skater nodded, shrugging off his jacket as he finished lacing his skates. His phone went off, text after text incoming. "And could you please silence your phone?"

                Seung-Gil sighed, stretching his arms above his head before coming to the edge of the rink. He thumbed at his phone, setting the noise to silent just as another text came in.

Unknown Number: "miss u <333"

                His finger froze over the home screen button. He was about to lock his phone, waiting for the telling notification of another incoming text. But this was the last one, simply sitting in his unread. He opened the messenger app, spending an annoyingly long time to type out his answer.

You: "miss you too, brb practice"

                Seung-Gil silenced his phone. He landed most of his jumps. He practiced his step-sequence. He thought of a new routine, one that sang about courage and risks that he wished he could take, molded after another that he knew would jump without fear. He fell, flipped over and skated anew.

                "Seung-Gil, are you alright?” His coach called as he landed from a jump combo, landing alright but over-rotated. The little imperfections would normally spread, itching under his skin but at the moment he found that he really couldn’t care less. “Seung Gil.”

                “Yes, coach?” He skated to the side where she stood, eyes analytical. A light sheen of sweat coated his face, and he turned his head to avoid taking heavy breaths right in front of her. Though she couldn’t see his whole face, she could see the little detail that had urged her to call him over.

                “Seung-Gil, did something good happen to you?” Not a partner, not a girlfriend. But something, she was certain. The Korean skater stretched, skating in small lazy circles as he thought. Something good? He had only gone through his normal routine, eating breakfast before 7 and being at the skate rink by 10.

                “No,” he responded. He hadn’t done anything especially “good”. But his coach kept that steady, almost worrying gaze on him, and maybe something good had happened and he simply wasn’t aware. “Is something wrong with my skating?” The most important factor of all.

                 “Nothing wrong,” except of course, flubbing his combination twice and his habit of under-rotating when trying quads, which was to be expected from only his second senior year, “I was simply curious. You’ve been smiling all day.”

                “What?” On cue, the smile disappeared. Seung-Gil blankly stared at his coach, freezing on the rink.

                “You were on your phone earlier,” she explains, scanning the sheet of calculations that Seung-Gil had given her yesterday, face and gestures perfectly blank. “And since your phone started going off, you’ve been smiling all throughout practice.”

                His _phone_. He’s not quite sure how to react to that, knowing that he may have been stupidly grinning while flopping on the ice. That’s not the look he wants to have as a skater. That’s not the look that he wants to have at all. People who walk around like optimistic idiots are just that—idiots. Seung-Gil isn’t. He’s not the kind of person who can smile at every scenario, act like an over-optimistic risk-taker, not the kind of person who keeps getting rejected and doesn’t know when to stop until he wins gold for unbelievably risky jumps. Suddenly, he’s not in the mood.

                “I’m going to take a break,” he murmurs. He doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s surprised; he’s Seung-Gil, the Korean skater, the ice cold representative, the man who never stops practicing. But his stomach feels like an anchor crashed in it and he already knows that he’ll flop all his jumps.

                He neatly unties his skates, slides them under the bench and shuffles through his locker content methodologically. His hands work on autopilot, taking out his bottle, his snacks and his wallet and slipping in each item into his pocket. He goes to grab his phone next, but it’s not in there. For once, he had brought the damned device into the rink, in the pocket of his pants. He needs to remove it to slide his keys underneath, and when he takes it out the screen is black. Maybe JJ responded. Maybe he didn’t.

                Curiosity overwhelms dread.

                Seung-Gil unlocks his screen.

“kk gl !!!”

“<3”

                In the reflection of the screen, his face is perfectly clear.

                He is smiling.

 

                “You’ve grown.”

                “Seung!”

                The hug isn’t unexpected or unwelcome, but Seung-Gil still feels a little awkward being tackled by the Canadian skater. JJ isn’t at his shoulder or his nose anymore—if anything, maybe he’s a little taller. His shoulders are broader too, wide enough to hold Seung-Gil instead of the other way around; his legs are longer, waist and hips higher up but their curve is still there, present as they slot so well into his own. His breath ghosts across Seung-Gil’s cheeks, and yes, he’s definitely taller now.

                “I missed you,” JJ says, pressing ever closer as he squeezes under Seung-Gil’s arms. It’s a little awkward considering Seung-Gil is the shorter one but he can’t imagine it the other way around. His hand comes up to the back of JJ’s head, just letting his knuckles run over the uneven surface. Right, he had gotten an undercut done. But as he slides his hands upwards and into the tight wefts of JJ’s hair, he feels the same soothing texture he had the last time they had met. JJ had become taller, broader, prettier. Looking at him was almost nostalgic.

                “You’re too close,” Seung-Gil huffs, giving a light tug on JJ’s hairs. The younger skater whines and yes, that’s indeed Jean.

                “How rude, you can’t deny me of my hugs,” JJ says even as he lets go of Seung-Gil. “I’m rooming next door to you so we can actually go over my place this time.” The gaps where he was just pressed against Seung-Gil feel cold in his leaving, and he ran his hand over the shoulder where JJ had just pressed his chin against.

                “No thanks,” Seung-Gil replies, pulling his luggage behind him. JJ makes a grabbing motion at his rolling suitcase but he drags it away with ease, smiling at the annoyed glance that gets him. The younger boy makes another hasty swipe at his duffle bag but he turns with ease, managing to click the elevator button upward and avoid JJ’s hands.

                “Just let me help!” JJ grumbles though he raises his hands in forgiveness. “You try to do a nice thing just one time and...”

                “You don’t have to,” Seung-Gil cuts in, motioning to the elevator doors as it arrives. They wait on the side as the people file out before JJ slides in an arm, pointing at Seung-Gil and then at the elevator door.

                “Go first.” With a roll of eyes Seung-Gil enters, clicking the 34th floor. Room 3416 for him and 3418 for JJ, if he remembered correctly. JJ presses the close door button a total of six times before renewing the conversation. “You never said what you wanted to do. Watch. What you wanted to watch.”

                “We could always do something else,” Seung-Gil says. He’s not exactly picky, and JJ is an entertainer. He’s sure the other has plenty of options for a Friday night before a tournament. “Just no parties, you’re not legal yet.” Not that age was a barrier in JJ’s life. Seung-Gil wasn’t blind to the party pictures and suspicious alcohol drinks that littered the other’s social media account. He knew that the other skater’s habits were still carefully watched over by his parents, but JJ certainly had some connections.

                “Excuse you, I’m practically legal. My birthday’s coming up in less than two months!” JJ responds, smirking upwards at Seung-Gil. “Besides, 17 is the best age, just barely indecent.” He gives an exaggerated lick of his lips; it looks ridiculous. The elevator clocks past 23 before his words register and Seung-Gil jerks.

                “Your birthday is in two months?” Should Seung-Gil prepare a gift? He never bothered attending any non-familial birthday celebrations at home, and he’s not certain if there’s a special Canadian custom that applies. “What are you doing for it?”

                “Yup, I’m going to party all night!” Seung-Gil doesn’t need to voice his opinion about that, instead just raising an eyebrow. It’s a powerful look. “Okay, okay, I’m just going out to eat with my girlfriend.”

                “You have a girlfriend.” It’s not meant to be a question, but there’s a small edge to the end of the statement that causes JJ to furrow his eyebrows at him. Seung-Gil doesn’t understand how a nearly-eighteen year old can still throw on the plain, innocent look. The elevator door rings for their floor and JJ steps off first, turning around and spreading his arms wide.

                “Of course! Why wouldn’t I?” Why indeed. “I’m perfect; world known musician, international ice skater, fashion designer… aren’t I the best?” He winks. Seung-Gil hates how well it suits him.

                “No,” he replies, walking past to his room. 3408… 3410… He finally hits room 3416 to find it already open ajar. Somehow, he has a feeling that it wasn’t simply an accident by the staff.

                Indeed, when Seung-Gil pushes open the door, he finds the bed already messy. Three white take out bags lie on the bed, the television is already turned on and connected to the Netflix connection of movies, and there’s a disgustingly frilly heart pillow thrown onto the single armchair. The hoodie besides it, marked with two glittery “J”s and a fuzzy crown, makes no mistake who created such chaos on his room. It looks just as they left the hotel two years back in the junior field.

                “I thought you wanted me to go to your room this time,” Seung-Gil states. He slides his rolling luggage to the side of the drawer and tugs off his jacket, aimlessly grappling with the hanger as he shuffles to the side letting JJ in. “What’s this set up?”

                “We both knew you weren’t going to agree.” That was only mostly true. It’s simply because it’s _JJ_ ; there’s something weirdly familial about waking up to rumpled blankets and the smell of leftover food even when the bed is empty. “I propose no romance this time. I want to watch something fitting of two men!”

                “One man and one teenager,” Seung-Gil corrects. JJ makes a fake-hurt noise in exchange, placing his hands over his heart dramatically. Regardless, he continues on to crowd Seung-Gil’s bed without care for any of his words. “I’m fine with anything. What food did you order?” It smelled of oil, cheese and onion, and Seung-Gil’s last meal was seven hours ago on the plane. Anything was better than that slop.

                “I got French,” JJ says, flipping through the available movies, “what about, nope. Ah, no. Hm, yeah no not that. Oh! How do you feel about horror movies?”

                “Sure.” Seung-Gil drops his jacket onto JJ’s, moving the heart pillow to the side so he can sit. His legs are exhausted.

                “Wow, you’re so enthusiastic,” JJ deadpans, though he clicks on the series. His eyes linger on Seung-Gil for a moment; something displeased flashes over his face. “What are you doing?”

                “I’m sitting?” It’s not a question. JJ makes a matching displeased noise.

                “Sit here, slowpoke.” He grabs two pillows and swings them over to his other side, clearing a space that he pats. “Or no food for you.”

 

                “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Seung-Gil states dryly, getting up. As he moves, his knees crack, his legs wobble and the three feet that he crosses to the mattress feel more draining than the journey from the airport to the hotel. “Bribing me with food, no shame.” He takes the closest white bag and pulling out the first box to reveal half a duck, braised and sauced and smelling like heaven on an empty stomach.

                “Being bribed with food,” JJ corrects, “no shame.” He flashes a smile to Seung-Gil as he opens his own bag, pulling out a container of something that smells creamy, rich and delicious. It appears golden yellow, eggy and cheesy. Seung-Gil follows a string of cheese from JJ’s fork to his lips.

                “Oh, it’s starting.” The line of the cheese cuts across his bottom lip, and as he opens his mouth to bite down his teeth scrape across. The tell-tale screaming of the thriller comes on but Seung-Gil’s eyes are transfixed as JJ scoops another forkful of his dinner. Steam rises from the small amount and JJ “ah”s, fixing his mouth into a small hole and blowing lightly. The strings of cheese follow his fork but he doesn’t quit cut them loose with his teeth. Ever so slowly, JJ lowers his head, one hand pulling back against the few loose long strands from his face as he bites down. The food sitting in Seung-Gil’s lap is hot and delicious, radiating warmth between his thighs, waiting to be eaten. Instead he watches as JJ chews through the last string of cheese as a stray hair slips through his fingers, and Seung-Gil swallows.

                “What?” Seung-Gil startles as JJ straightens. His eyes rake over the untouched box on his lap, confusion evident. “Not hungry?” His voice is small. There’s a trace of cheese smudged on the side of his lips.

                “No.” That’s wrong. Seung-Gil is starving, but there’s something distracting at hand. “No, I’m hungry,” he corrects, and his mind racks for excuses. “That looks delicious,” he says instead, and he’s not referring to the food sitting in JJ’s lap.

                “This? It is delicious.” JJ hums in amusement. “What, so tempted by my food you can’t even touch your own?” Only someone as narcissistic as JJ could deliver a line like that. Seung-Gil isn’t sure whether that’s a negative trait right now.

                “Something like that,” he concedes. He shuffles closer to the other skater, eyes anywhere but the box in his lap. Someone shrieks in the background, and he’s fairly certain that’s the sound of shattered glass. “May I?”

                “Sure.” JJ scoots closer, knees folding in as he raises the container. Now that Seung-Gil is closer he can clearly see two fluffy soufflés, caramelized onions and pieces of beef scattered on top with the melted cheese. He cuts into the soufflé he hadn’t touched yet, bringing up cheese and meat and Seung-Gil can’t help the way his eyes jump from the fork to JJ’s mouth for just a millisecond.

                “Here,” JJ says, raising the fork to Seung-Gil’s lips. The soufflé is hot, steam wafting upwards and the tantalizing scent of sweet onions and beef sits under his nose. Still, it’s strange. His eyes try to focus on the forkful and end up focusing on the face behind, the prominent curve of high cheekbones and the slightest hint of eye bags from overworking, the smooth kissable forehead and the arched nose set between two almost faded blue eyes that lock onto his. Or are they watching the soufflé?

                Seung-Gil opens his mouth and the cheesy piece falls in. It’s hot, spices strong and delicious and he lets out a soft moan at the warmth spreading. JJ’s fork wavers in air with nothing on it but heat, and Seung-Gil resists the urge to bite it just to have something else in his mouth.

                “Good?” His voice is quiet, so quiet. Even though he’s grown taller, JJ still looks up at Seung-Gil, bent forward with the fork raised and the box wobbles precariously in his lap. Seung-Gil nods and he smiles, slow and smooth and soft. “Good.” The smudge of cheese is still there. Seung-Gil lifts one hand and JJ’s eyes follow it as it comes close, his thumb pressing against the corner of the Canadian’s lips as he wipes at the yellow spot. It doesn’t come off with just rubbing. JJ doesn’t flinch; face impassively still as Seung-Gil’s hand brushes over again.

                “Open,” Seung-Gil commands. JJ’s mouth opens obediently, letting Seung-Gil’s thumb slide in. His finger moves along the inner gums of his bottom jaw, slick with saliva. Then his thumb runs against his front teeth, protruding just slightly. It’s cute. His hand cups JJ’s chin when his thumb leaves his mouth, rubbing again at that spot of cheese until it fades. Twice, he notices the barest line of drool slipping through JJ’s open mouth. The smudge is almost gone, and he scratches lightly at it until the spot of skin is as clear as the rest.

                “There.”

                His hand doesn’t leave JJ’s face. He’s too close right now. His thumb is slick with saliva and that would be disgusting any other day, but right now he’s uncomfortably warm and it’s not from the hot food sitting untouched on his lap. Seung-Gil isn’t blind. JJ isn’t moving away, and neither is he. If anything, it feels that they’re getting closer. There’s a perfect stillness to the scene, something that could almost be mistaken for serene. JJ parts his lips.

                Someone in the thriller shrieks.

                “EH!” JJ’s face rises too fast and Seung-Gil startles when their noses collide, a loud thumping noise echoing as they both yelp and move away from each other.

                “Ow!”

                “Ouch,” Seung-Gil grimaces, covering his nose as it throbs painfully. JJ squeaks besides him when he touches the bridge of his nose, slowly turning red and prickly with pain on contact. Seung-Gil groans, pinching his nose and wincing at the pain. He raises his other hand to rub at it, but it’s still wet with saliva. Right. “JJ, are you okay?”

                “Ugh, fine,” his voice sounds stuffy. “I can’t believe that just happened,” he moans, one hand firmly clenching his nose. JJ turns to Seung-Gil, brows narrowed but ridiculous with the redness of his face. “You suck. Who decided to watch a thriller?”

                “That would be you,” Seung-Gil replies, his own voice stupidly pitched due to holding his nose. Even so, he can’t help the amusement in his voice. “What are we doing?”

                “I don’t know!” JJ huffs, but there’s laughter there. Warmth stronger than any food. “Just so you know, I don’t actually get any movie watching when we’re together. That’s a waste of my Netflix you know! I should do something drastic to you for repayment.” He’s grinning, bright and sunny. Seung-Gil feels like combusting.

                “Duly noted.” Another person screams on screen, covered in horrendous amounts of blood as their eyes explode. “Is that drastic enough?” He points at the screen. The camera zooms out to emphasize the distance traveled by the exploding eyeballs. Another round of blood splatters the screen.

                “Wha-yes,” JJ laughs, “I’m going to take your eyes Seung-Gil. I’m going to take them and drain them and get buckets of blood.” His laugh sounds hysterical, voice unnaturally pitched even when he finally lets go of his nose. It’s ridiculous and addicting and Seung-Gil can’t help but join in. His laugh is odd too, just as weirdly high and squeaky and when he snorts, JJ goes into full belly laughs, pointing at Seung-Gil. “That’s so lame!”

                “You’re so lame,” he chuckles and when JJ tries to object and ends up hiccupping with laughter he can’t help but laugh harder. They must spend minutes like that, simply pointing at each other and laughing. Seung-Gil feels like a child. He feels like a lovesick idiot. He’s starving and ignoring the feast available. He was so bored on the plane, yet here he is oblivious to the ongoing murder festival on screen. He was always alone, traveling even with his coach.

                And now.

                And now.

                JJ flops onto his shoulder, body trembling with suppressed laughter until Seung-Gil says something nonsensical about unrealistic blood amounts and then he’s back into hysterics. He buries his face into the crook of Seung-Gil’s elbow, face flushed and eyes squeezed shut, mouth open and his voice rings. It travels upwards like the wafts of stream from their untouched meal, and Seung-Gil wants to taste every note. He already knows.

                Delicious.

 

\+ 1

 

“where are you”

“front of station!!! u?”

“almost”

                JJ huffs as he stares down at his cell phone. The last text message was sent almost seven minutes ago and he feels awkward, standing beside the bright red pole at the train station. Sure, he’s wearing sunglasses and a face mask Seung-Gil gifted him, but that doesn’t make him less paranoid. Ever since he broke up with his last girlfriend, a rising idol, his face has been plastered on the news more often even in casual wear. Speaking of, he spares a glance downward at his outfit: a simple Henley, a loose jacket and jeans. Cool, simple and sexy. He sighs.

                His phone vibrates.

“turn around”

                He does. And a present is thrusted into his face.

                “What?” He jerks backwards. Is that Christmas wrapping paper? In July?

                “Happy nineteenth birthday.” It’s Seung-Gil, face neutral as he lifts the gift upwards. He’s wearing a loose sweater and jeans tucked into boots. JJ realizes that for once, he’s the one looking down at Seung-Gil instead of the other way around.

                “It’s not my birthday yet,” he says, but his smile grows fond as he cups the gift gently. His fingers itch to unwrap it, but he’ll wait. Presents are best reserved for the actual day. “So that’s the occasion? Brought me out here just to give me a present?” Why didn’t you just deliver it goes unasked. What else do you have planned lays in wait.

                “I’m taking you out today as a celebration,” Seung-Gil clarifies, “food and shopping, as part of your present.”

                “What, no movie?” JJ teases, and Seung-Gil finally cracks a smile. It’s warm and fits amazingly well for someone who rarely grins, and JJ feels the familiar flutter of butterflies return to his stomach. “Isn’t this our first time meeting outside a competition?” It is. He just wants to fill the space.

                “Weren’t you the one complaining that we don’t actually watch manage to focus on the movies together?” Seung-Gil responds. “So let’s skip the movie. I’m bringing you to eat Korean today. And,” he cuts in as JJ’s eyes light up, “I’m picking what you order this time.”

                “Okay, okay,” JJ raises his hands in resignation. But his smile is there, as bright and sunny as ever. He’s grown older, almost nineteen years old. The youthfulness remains. Still, without the familiarity of his eyes, it’s not the same. Seung-Gil can’t help when his hands rise, slipping the glasses off JJ’s face and yep, those same bright blue eyes. “Then it’s a date.”

                Seung-Gil nods.

                “It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> i cant with this ship


End file.
